Black Feather
by kakashikrazy256
Summary: It's not real. He repeatedly told himself, almost in a desperate manner. There was no way. His father was dead-has been dead for eight years. There's no way...no way that the man in front of him was Kuroba Toichi. MK Corbeau Arc spoilers.


**Warnings: Perhaps some strong language, sadness, head canon with Kaito's anxiety attacks.**

**The file was a bit confusing since I'm not sure if the Corbeau that saved Kid from Snake was Chikage in disguise, someone she partnered up with or hell maybe even Toichi himself (because with the way things are going, it's screaming he's alive.) But here, I'm going to assume it's not Chikage for the sake of plot. (Hell maybe it really is Toichi, your perspective, dear readers) **

**But even so, using Toichi's face as a 'disguise' was really awful. How could anyone do that in front of Kaito's face? It's mocking his father's death and downright disturbing. You could see it in his face when he saw Corbeau. But too bad Gosho had to play it off cool since MK is technically still a comedy not a detective drama and made Kaito chill about it after the initial rage. **

**But I wanted to write about what if Kaito didn't go with the flow? What if he couldn't handle it and broke down on the spot? So here you go have this Kaito!whump angst story. **

**(Done ranting) Enjoy**

"I can disguise as anyone…even the person who would shock you the most." The phantom in black smirked playfully.

But Kaito could barely register those words- he could barely register _that face. _

Snake and his goons just melted into the background as he focused solely on the man standing in front of him. He didn't even care that there were guns trained on his head as he turned his back towards the men after his life. Because at this point, he couldn't even bring himself to really care.

Because there he was in front of him, his eyes sparkling and young as if not a day had passed since-

_Fire, explosions, debris, ringing, noise, screams, blood-_

He stumbled back, a choked gasp escaping his quivering lips. He couldn't-_chaos_-not here-_crying_-not now.

"Y-you bastard." He hissed out, his hand on the black gem tightened. He couldn't stop himself from trembling.

How dare this bastard use _his_ face? How, how the hell- He couldn't even form a coherent thought as the rage washed over him in a hot flash. He had never wanted to hurt someone so badly in his life.

His father's face wasn't something anyone could use as a disguise so casually. Hell, even he had never done it before. Because-

_Panic, death, fear, horror. He wasn't able to do anything; he was useless, weak, scared, pathetic_.

His chest burned and he couldn't breathe.

"What are you blabbering about over there? Hand over that gem right now!"

His ears felt as if they stuffed with cotton. He could only hear his blood pumping rapidly through his head.

Dad-_no this was not dad, damn it_- moved to stand in front of him in a blink of an eye.

"Let's talk about this after we leave this stage."

He flinched when the imposter spoke in that same smooth voice.

"…Shut up…" His voice barely counted as a whisper. His heart slammed against his ribs viciously, echoing in his mind. He wondered if it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, because it was consuming him.

He backed up again, glancing behind him frantically.

He needed to escape from here. He needed to catch his breath. He couldn't do that here. This imposter was-

He gritted his teeth and one trembling hand reached up to grasp at his top hat. He couldn't let any of these bastards see the sheer panic on his face.

Don't show them. Don't give them an advantage.

_Don't let them see how pathetic you are. _

"Fire!"

He cringed as the room erupted in loud noises.

_No...no no...nonononono not this! Stop it shut up no no no-_

His breath caught in his throat and his eyes clenched shut.

_Explosions, ringing in this ears, deaf, screaming-_

Sweat was gathering on his forehead and beads of it were trailing down his neck.

His legs were trembling and knocking into each other involuntarily. He wanted to collapse on the floor and throw up. The loud shooting made his nausea escalate.

A dark shadow was over him and he looked up through blurry eyes.

Corbeau was...shielding him?

He stared at the larger man's back and his heartbeat quickened.

_Just like dad. _

His trembling hands gripped at the material of his uniform as his breath hitched again.

_No, dad's dead. This isn't him. Stop thinking about it! Concentrate! _

He blinked when the jewel case exploded into flames. The warmth was so close and it licked at his face hungrily. His eyes widen as he stared at the roaring case of flames.

_Fire...hell...that day..._

_!_

Corbeau glanced back in surprise when he heard the strangled cry.

Kid was on the ground; staring up at the flames with an expression he could only describe as...utter terror. His face was sickly pale and slick with sweat.

"No...no..." He was muttering to himself softly. His arms were shaking, his chest heaving up and down too quick to be healthy. Hyperventilation.

That was...not good.

He hastily reached down and took the younger phantom' card gun out of his pocket. Kid barely reacted; it was starting to disconcert him. Perhaps...he went too far?

The crow shot the card through the flames and watched it travel past the fire alarm.

A piercing ring sounded and he noticed Kid wince again. Water rained down into the room rapidly without mercy. The wind from the air conditioning was biting and the water was freezing as it pelted down. He glanced down at the drenched little dove. They should leave as soon as possible.

"Crap!"

He looked back at the assassins. The water and wind combination was freezing them in place. They wouldn't be leaving for a while.

It was time to go.

He turned to Kid. Without a word, he grabbed his arm firmly and dragged him to his feet. He was met with soft keening noises of protest but ignored them.

He shot the card gun at the window several times and was glad to hear the satisfying noise of shattered glass.

With Kid in tow, he threw himself out into the night.

They began to fall. The light feeling in his stomach brought on a bout of adrenaline and he could barely suppress a grin.

He heard Kid's shallow breathing over the roar of the wind and decided that was enough thrill for now.

He turned and held the other thief firmly in his arms, reaching into Kid's suit pockets.

He retreated with a hang glider remote and let the thief go.

"Ah!" Kid's eyes widened as he was abandoned to gravity's wrath. The ground was getting closer and closer and he had no glider control! He was going to-

His mind went blank when his descent abruptly stopped. The sudden change made his stomach lurch and he spent the next few seconds gliding widely in random directions.

His head was pounding too loudly for him to concentrate on flying. How was he going to get home?

His glider tilted left and his direction changed. Blinking rapidly, he looked up and saw the chain attached to the base of his glider.

He followed the chain's path and it led to Corbeau. He was gliding several meters ahead of him, holding onto the other end of the chain,

His heart raced abnormally again and he looked away.

_You're okay, Kaito. You're alive, it's alright. Stay c-calm, stay cool. I-it's going to be alright. Stop crying, damn it._

He wiped at his uncovered eye with a curse. He hadn't had such a major attack in forever. Especially not in the vicinity of others.

He mentally recited the advice he got from doctors years ago and took slow deep breaths. He let out shuddering breaths, willing the tears to stop.

The cool night wind soothed his anxiety just a bit. The water from the sprinklers before was freezing and made his clothes stick to his skin. He shivered and closed his eyes, briefly wondering where Corbeau was taking him.

The white phantom opened his eyes when he felt them begin their descent. He glanced back and saw the heist building only a small distance away. Corbeau must've only wanted to get away from the immediate heist area.

His glider deactivated when he was a meter off the ground. He stumbled when he landed on his feet, feeling the drain from the anxiety attack. They were in an abandoned part of town. The only source of light came from a lone neon bar sign a street away.

"Are you..." A hand was on his shoulder and he stiffened.

"Don't you fucking touch me!" He hissed and swatted the hand away with a snarl. He hated it. He hated how concerned Corbeau sounded. How much a father he sounded like. Like _his _father.

"Why the hell are you still wearing this face? Take it off you bastard!" His voice pitched up an octave and he hated it as well. He was losing control. It wasn't just a crack in his poker face anymore. The whole damn mask was shattered into pieces.

Corbeau didn't speak and he let out an enraged yell, lunging forward to rip it off himself.

No more masks.

The black phantom dodged away and he stumbled to the ground. His white suit was covered in dirt and filthy water. Beer bottles littered the floor and a shard cut through his gloves.

There was shifting directly behind him and he let out another small hiss, backing away. _Weak_.

His father's sad eyes bored holes into his head and he couldn't look away.

But it wasn't his dad because he...he was _dead_. He was killed by the bastards from before. He wasn't supposed to be here. He was safe and at rest. And yet...and yet!

"He's dead! Kuroba Toichi is dead! Why are you using his face?" He yelled in outrage, slamming his hand down onto the grimy floor. His bloodied hand made a splash on a puddle of spilt alcohol and the cuts burned. But it didn't even come close to the amount of pain his chest was in.

"You think it's funny? Because he's dead? Don't screw with me!" His breathing quickened and he regained his fury.

"Kuroba Toichi was the greatest magician in the world. Don't you _dare_ mock his death in my face!" His cheeks were burning, his thoughts swirling in a cauldron of ire.

"He was...he was..." _My dad._

He stumbled over his words and abruptly stopped, lips quivering as he turned away.

"The greatest..." Warm droplets trailed down his face and he couldn't stop them in time.

"Why...why? Why did you show up now? Where were you eight years ago when he died?" He covered his eyes with his other hand, sobbing quietly. He didn't want things to turn out this way. The person in front of him was an imposter, he knew that-he forced himself to believe that. But...

It feels so real.

It's as if he were actually crying in front of his dad. He was a _disappointment_. A train-wreck of emotion. He had no poker face for his father to be proud of.

_Disgraceful_.

"Y-you b-bastard, I told you to take that disguise o-off. Don't...d-don't..."

_Don't embarrass me any further. _

**Should I continue or not, I wonder ahahaha… Poor Kaito baby. Reviews are appreciated and allow you to give our poor little dove a hug. **


End file.
